


A Curse of Frost and Fear

by Evaldrynn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, But he is also actually really sweet, Castle life, F/M, Honestly almost nothing is related to canon, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki is a bit of a dick, Magic, More tags to be added, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, blood mention, reader is unnamed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27028648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaldrynn/pseuds/Evaldrynn
Summary: "I am afraid to admit that there is no one here but us, yet you have nothing to fear from me. I have no ill intentions in mind. Please, don’t be alarmed – I am aware that the vastness of the empty castle can feel more like a prison than any brick cell, and that being away from home, alone and confused, can feel like torture. It is all that I can offer."A Beauty and the Beast AU
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 133
Kudos: 259





	1. Prelude

“Shit!”  
She pulled her hood further down to shield her face, but the torrent of ice was merciless and the piercing cold was creeping towards her bones. She wouldn’t survive the night if she didn’t find warmth soon – yet slowing down and setting up camp was no option.  
They had followed her. 

The thick layer of snow and the treacherous terrain that lay hidden underneath made it hard to keep up the pace, and with every step she took her wounds sent bolts of pain through her body; warm blood soaked her clothes and drained her energy. She was hurt, exhausted, hungry; dying. But she couldn’t give up. Trudging through the cold she left behind a trail that she knew would be followed but there was no time to cover up her tracks, and she hoped the dark night would hinder her pursuers as much as it was hindering her. The moon was barely visible through the canopy.  
The underbrush grew thicker; thorny vines grabbed on to her pants and coat and scratched the skin beneath as she pulled herself free and continued, unrelenting. It wouldn’t be much further to the river and she would be able to escape with those who were waiting for her.

There, though the brambles – light! 

Hope flared up and so did her pace as she slashed her knife at the vines again and again with every step forward and pushed and pushed through the thorny grasp. Heavy breathing turned into icy clouds and her frozen fingers clamped around the handle with the last bit of strength she could summon until she sliced through the last of the undergrowth and stumbled forward into the open. 

“I’m here, I’m here! Please, we need to leave, they’re close behind-” 

But the clearing was empty. 

The biting wind raged on and through the whipped up flurry there was no light, no river. No camp. There were no friends waiting for her with food and warm blankets and lanterns to fight the dark; no boats to carry them downstream. Had she gotten lost? Had the night warbled her sense of direction? Had she been too afraid or too cold to think clearly? 

Only the moon saw her sink to her knees while hope left her heart. Only the stars were witness of how her eyes fell shut, and how her side met with the snow. How blossoms of red mixed with the white. 

And only the frost saw a creature of nightmares that had followed the scent of blood through the frigid forest, and which carried the body away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect the next chapter soon!


	2. Awoken

The dreamless sleep faded, and a headache took its place together with confusion.   
Was she… was she still alive? Was this what was Beyond?   
Then the ache began to spread, down her face and neck, to her arms and chest and down her legs to the very tips of her toes - but the worst came when she tried to move: searing hot pain shot through her abdomen and her thigh, where the sword had sliced through her flesh, and she cried out in agony. Everything hurt, but it felt… better, somehow. Not as bad as it had been. And she no longer felt deeply exhausted either – tired, still, but not exhausted. 

She tried to open her eyes. They were swollen, and her sight was a little blurry at first, with tears gathering in the corners and slipping down her cheeks; yet slowly her vision sharpened and her confusion only grew. Rich green fabric. To the side an ornately carved post, connected to the headboard that was made from the same dark wood. A… canopy bed?   
Her body then began to make sense of the sensations above and below: thick, warm sheets, a big pillow, and a mattress that was neither too soft nor too rigid. Biting through the pain she slowly pushed herself up on her elbows. Where the fuck was she? And who had brought her here? Why had they saved her, if this wasn’t what Death entailed?

It was almost absurd how abundant the room was in every sense. There were pelts at the foot-end of the bed, visibly of fine quality. The night stands had dizzying details carved into the wood, the knobs of the drawers were made of some kind of ivory or bone, and she couldn’t even start to describe the fine craftsmanship in the wooden panelling that covered the bottom part of the walls; leaving the top part for beautiful wallpaper that was occasionally hidden behind masterful paintings and gorgeous tapestries depicting all kinds of sceneries. A rug covered part of the wooden floor, and flames danced in the stone fireplace on which all kinds of expensive-looking trinkets were displayed.   
She moved with a groan and positioned herself in such a way that her back could lean against the headboard, granting her a better view of the room. Curtains were drawn in front of the windows, but she could tell they must be massive. There was a big writing desk placed against the wall, between two bookcases that stood far taller than she would ever be able to reach, and there were three doors – all closed – of which the double one in the centre of the wall across the bed must be the main entrance to the room. She guessed one of the other two would lead to an ensuite bathroom. She would need to relieve herself soon, if she managed to get herself out of the bed, and she would need to find something to eat, too; her stomach was growling like she hadn’t eaten in days. 

As she let her eyes wander more she noticed a tray on the low table that stood close to the fireplace, and her eyes widened. It was as if her needs had shaped reality. Fruit – all sorts of them – and bread with seeds and two elegant glass pitchers, one with water and the other with some kind of juice, and next to them a ceramic pot with a lid on it. Would it be soup? Or stew? She didn’t care what it was, as long as it was edible. There were more small containers but her mouth was watering and she could no longer wait.   
As careful as she could be she pushed her legs off the bed, threw the blanket aside, turned to sit on the edge, and tested the ground beneath her feet. It was then that she noticed she was wearing a nightgown, and her wounds had been bandaged. There was no red staining the quality linen. Surely she had still been bleeding? Then the linen must have been changed... How long had she been unconscious? And who had done all of this? 

It was a relief to notice that she was still wearing her own underthings; whomever had taken care of her had not invaded her privacy more than necessary. Gods, it must have been quite the work…   
Well, whomever it was, she would probably meet them soon, and she would thank them for their generosity – but first she would eat, relieve herself, and then clean herself up if she could find water somewhere. Maybe she should save the water from the pitcher. 

With one hand on the headboard for support and the other on the edge of the mattress she pulled and pushed herself up onto her feet, and though the pain that shot through her body made her see stars, she was determined to get to either the comfortable looking armchair left of the table, or the divan in front of it. Or maybe just the floor, that would be fine too, as long as she could reach the tray.   
Careful. One step, then another, hand moving to the nightstand, then letting go and standing without support. With her arms slightly spread for balance she made her way over to the low table and sat herself down as slowly as she could so as not to affect the wounds. It wasn’t comfortable, but the food was distraction enough. It almost made her laugh in giddy disbelief when she found out the little tub she had seen contained a beautiful whitish-yellow butter, and the other some kind of fruity preserve. This luxury was beyond anything she had ever seen in her entire life!  
She barely thought about whether the food might be poisoned or drugged and dug in without restraint. It wouldn’t make sense anyway. Why would they save her only to mess her up again? Unless it was some kind of weird game; you never knew what kind of people were out in the woods. 

The woods. The people who had been waiting for her. Were they still there? Had they been found, taken captive, killed? Had they continued travelling without her when she hadn’t shown up? Had they been granted the same luxury as her? Were they here, too, but in different rooms?   
She forced herself to push those questions away. First things first. 

So once most of the food had been devoured she stood up again and gave the tray one last look. She had left a few things for later. Should she hide it, or take it with her in some kind of makeshift bag? What if someone took it away when she was in the bathroom? She wasn’t willing to risk these priceless gifts vanishing the moment she looked away, like it was magic instead of truly there, and she knew she would probably be hungry again soon. Her body would need a lot to fully heal.   
After a few more seconds of running through her options she decided to leave the leftovers where they were. Surely her saviours would provide her with more? It was a baseless assumption – for all she knew they could send her on her way the moment she stepped out of this room and consider their hospitality overstayed. She didn’t know how long they had been taking care of her already, after all. 

Then it was time to decide which door she should go for. The doors were both on the same side of the room, in the wall opposite from the fireplace. They weren’t far apart, with only a dark wooden console table with above it mirror parting them, so opening the wrong one wouldn’t be much of a detour; but it would suck nonetheless. She had drank almost half of the pitcher filled with juice, and her bladder was begging her to be quick. 

The right one, then.

And she was lucky: as she opened the door, white marble flooring greeted her. In the centre of the room stood a bath bigger than she had ever seen one. It was made from the same material, which made it look as if the floor and the bath had been cut from the same piece; and the countertops of the wooden cabinets matched. The bath was full, too, and the water was still warm!   
When she walked over she found out – rather clumsily – that the thin, three tiered table standing beside the marble tub actually stood on little wheels and could be moved, and if she had put too much pressure on it the colourful glass vials on top would have toppled over at the sudden movement and shattered on the floor. There were bars of soap as well, and a glass jar with some kind of crystals in it. Was she allowed to use all of this?

She continued to her destination on the other side of the room first, not bothering to close the curtains to the ceiling-high window on her way there, and sighed in relief when she reached it. The window didn’t offer much of a view anyway because of the weather. She doubted anyone would be able to see her. She stared outside as she answered nature’s call, but the white, thick fog and the icy patterns on the framed glass only told her what she already knew: outside it was yet another cold winter’s day. 

After cleaning herself carefully yet thoroughly beside the bath – trying to get in had proven to be far too painful - and even taking the liberty of spraying on some perfume it was time to find something proper to wear. Had her caretakers thought of that too? She made her way out of the bathroom and glanced around, but found no sign of any garments having been prepared. Leaving in just her nightgown wasn’t really an option, though…   
Yet exhaustion then washed over her, and the ache returned. Perhaps it was best if she rested some more before she went exploring in the hopes of finding her saviours. Yeah… resting sounded good. 

The canopy bed looked beyond alluring and the moment she crawled under its sheets she felt how gravity pulled on her, how the crackling of the fire sung like a lullaby, and how the soft pillows shushed her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be uploaded tomorrow, and after that it will probably be updated once every week or every two weeks! Stay safe ❤


	3. Alone

When she woke up again it was dark.  
It had felt like mere seconds of unconsciousness; she had lost all sense of time and once more she woke up confused until the dark green bedcurtains reminded her of where she was. The fire was still burning and new wood had been used to keep the flames alive. Someone had visited her room again.  
She shot up, partially expecting them to still be there, but the room was quiet apart from the crackling fireplace and the howling wind outside that made the shutters chatter. 

Her eyes found the tray and to her almost embarrassingly deep relief the leftovers were still there – and had been added to: slices of bread of a different sort than the last, and milk had replaced the juice. There were two boiled eggs, a generous block of cheese, a little bowl of nuts, a few small carrots, and some different kinds of fruit; like before. She couldn’t even imagine the wealth the owners of the mansion must have if they could feed their guests like this every day!  
She ate as much as her stomach demanded and then some, determined to make the most of her stay, and only when she brushed the crumbs off her nightgown and onto her empty plate did she spot the piece of paper held in place by the tray’s edge.

A letter? 

She unfolded it carefully and there, in elegant cursive, stood a message addressed to her. 

_‘I hope you are feeling better and that the room has been to your liking. The bath has been refreshed, the fire will be kept burning, and food will be brought at every mealtime for as long as you decide to stay.  
Paper, ink, and pens have been left on the desk as well; you can use it to communicate your needs and wants, and it will be taken care of. You may wear any garment from the ensuite wardrobe, or change rooms if you so desire. Fresh linen for your wounds will be left in the bathroom. _

_I advise you to stay until your wounds have fully healed and until the weather has settled down. A snowstorm is coming and it is uncertain how long it will last. If you still decide to leave, however, a horse will be readied and supplies will be prepared. The doors and gate will be open at any time._

_May you recover in comfort,_

_Yours sincerely.’_

It was not signed with a name, and written in singular form. A widow or widower? But why not write their name, or come meet her in person? It sounded like writing was the only way to communicate, and that whomever they were, they were not inclined to introduce themselves. Surely she would be able to find out by asking one of the servants?  
And the message itself was strange, too. She could change rooms if she wanted and everything she wished for would be taken care of? It seemed like a lot to offer a stranger. They didn’t even know whether she had been a perpetrator instead of a victim. What if she had been a rapist, or had murdered a child for sport, and had in turn been rightfully wounded? They would be helping someone that could be a danger to themselves! They were unbelievably generous to someone they hadn’t even spoken to – almost naively so. 

And the writing part still made very little sense. What if she hadn’t been able to read or write? Would they have sent someone to tell her these things, or would they not have communicated at all? 

The note had only increased the amount of questions already swirling through her mind. She didn’t think they would make her pay for all of this, and if they did she would have to disappoint them with only two silver pieces and a few copper coins; but it was all still very confusing.  
She decided that it was time to find a servant. 

After a trip to the bathroom, still not being able to use the bath, she made her way to the other door and found the array of garments behind it. It was almost creepy how they all seemed to be the right size, but she picked an outfit nonetheless: one that was both comfortably warm and practical. She was pleased to see how it looked on her in the mirror. Not bad, not bad at all. It was then that she noticed how it didn’t hurt when it brushed over the skin of her arms and legs, where the thorns had scratched and pierced, and a quick inspection led to a baffling conclusion: it had healed already. Now that she thought about it – she had been dying. Her wounds had been deep and her bones had been cold, and hunger had burned through her energy reserves. It was impossible for her to have been asleep without eating or drinking for more than a week, but the scratches and punctures would have needed more than that to fade so perfectly. It didn’t add up. Tonight she would check the deep cuts in her stomach and thigh, but she could guess what she would find: they had closed more than what would be considered normal. 

Had someone used magic on her?  
No, that wasn’t possible. 

She looked down at her hands as if she could see something that wasn’t there until she suddenly remembered her goal: getting answers. A pair of indoor shoes was quickly found and fit perfectly as well. She noticed how her walking had improved, too, even if just a little; and she reached the massive double doors rather smoothly.  
Inhale, exhale. She had not prepared anything to say, but she would think of something in the moment. 

And she opened the door. 

No sound reached her ears, and as she glanced out into the hallway there was no one in sight. The hallway itself was only more proof of how this building must be massive, and surely the owner would have hired a small legion of staff to keep everything in its prime state? She waited, and waited a little more, but no one came around a corner or left any of the other rooms that were hidden behind those closed doors.  
Cautiously she moved into the open, scanning everything as if she was missing something. Maybe this was part of a less used wing? Maybe the staff wasn’t allowed to come here so as not to disturb her if she was resting?  
She tried knocking on one door, and when no answer came she was so bold as to look inside. Empty. The next room: empty. Something didn’t feel right. Where was everyone? She began to wander through the mansion, occasionally opening doors to look inside, but she never saw a single soul, never heard footsteps or chatter in the distance. 

“Hello?” 

Her voice was a little rough from disuse, but she tried again – louder. No answer. 

She walked and walked until she ended up in what must be the main entry hall; two massive stone staircases led down to doors that were even bigger than any she had come across. A way out. Something inside of her begged her to leave this place, but the rational side of her won without trouble: the wind could be heard bashing against the closed shutters and her wounds hadn’t fully healed yet. The cold would snuff out the life in her before she made it halfway to anywhere. 

Tightly holding on to the railing she made her way down the stairs, watching her feet carefully to be sure they wouldn’t misstep. Even through her shoes she could feel the luxurious softness of the stair runner. About halfway down she took a moment to stand still and look around. The size of it all was overwhelming and there was more than enough space to fit a crowd. She imagined three women in expensive gowns, giggling at the latest gossip as they made their way up and away to one of the more private rooms; a steward clothed in a robe of fur greeting new guests, and a servant lighting the candles that sat snuggly in their holders on the wall and in the candelabra that lit up every corner which the golden light of the chandelier did not reach. But they faded like ghosts; the absence of sound washed away the illusion’s power. The golden candlelight was still there, yet it lacked the warmth that people brought. 

Then she noticed something curious. In the centre of the hall, between the doors and the staircases, stood a round, wooden table with a marble planter on top; the flowers growing from it beyond gorgeous. And next to it: 

a note. 

She made her way to the bottom of the stairs and unfolded the piece of paper to reveal the same immaculate handwriting. Her eyes widened as she read. 

_‘I am afraid to admit that there is no one here but us, yet you have nothing to fear from me. I have no ill intentions in mind. Please, don’t be alarmed – I am aware that the vastness of the empty castle can feel more like a prison than any brick cell, and that being away from home, alone and confused, can feel like torture. It is all that I can offer._

_You can leave if you wish, yet I still strongly advise against it. Once you pass through the gates I will no longer be able to grant you safety or to aid you in any other way. The woods are treacherous, the weather deadly. Stay. There is no shortage of food or water, and the blankets will keep you warm at night. The library is at your disposal if you would like to spend your time reading. If you enjoy cooking you are welcome to visit the kitchen – any ingredients you wish for will be brought there – or if it is drawing, painting, or woodworks you prefer then those tools can be provided as well._

_Anything you can think of is available._

_Yours sincerely.’_

How had they known? They must have seen her, but how come she had not noticed them in return? She read the letter once, twice, maybe four times in the end. For all of it – the quicker healing, the abundance of fresh food in mid-winter, the perfectly sized clothing, the pristine state of the mansion – no, castle – without staff and then the appearing notes, there was only one explanation possible. 

“You’re a magic user.” 

Her voice echoed through the massive room, the words more of a confirmation of what she had slowly begun to realise than an accusation towards whomever was there. No answer came, yet somehow she was sure they had heard her. 

“Thank you for saving me, and for providing me with food and rest. I have no means of repaying you. Why have you granted a stranger such kindness?” 

No reply. 

It was almost infuriating, but it was mainly the utter confusion that frustrated her.

“I know you can hear me. Why won’t you show yourself?” 

Movement, but not in the way she had expected it: as she glanced back down she saw how the letters faded from the paper, and how new ones appeared. 

_‘Your perception is admirable. Yes, I use magic; I apologise if it frightens you. It is better if we do not meet._

_Yours sincerely.’_

Her brow furrowed. What kind of existence was that? Just hiding away in this massive place with no family, no friends, no staff and no guests, and speaking without being present? How long had they been living like this? And how had they even known to find her? 

“Can I at least know your name, then?” 

The writing disappeared, but for a moment nothing returned in its place. Hesitance? 

_‘You can call me anything you like.’_

“You must have a name of your own?” 

_‘You might know it, but it is best if you forget.’_

She sighed, aware that it was useless to press on. It was obvious that they were hiding something - their identity, their past, something like that – and they wouldn’t reveal it to a stranger, or perhaps to anyone. She understood, and she would respect their wish to keep it hidden. It was the least she could do in return for their generosity. 

“I will need a map of the castle to find my way around.”

And not a second had passed or the writing faded and a map appeared.  
Their relief was obvious.


	4. Conversation

She used the map to find her way to the library, surprised to notice that it wasn’t far from the room that she stayed in, and pushed against one of the heavy wooden doors. Once more she was blown away by the imposing interior. A broad pathway ran through the centre of it; isles of bookcases branching off to the left and right with divans and armchairs dotted around between them and arched windows at the end. As she stepped inside the room two wooden staircases – one to her left and one on her right – granted access to a second, overhanging level where even more books and scrolls were stored. She brushed her hand over one of the pillars that supported it, following the incredibly fine carvings of vines and flowering plants with her fingers, and wondered once again who the craftsmaster had been to accomplish this. It was incredible. And had she ever seen so many books in one place? All the knowledge that must be stored in here… Possibly even ancient by the looks of some. 

Where should she start?

The wind howled outside as she slowly moved down the main lane. It was strange how most things appeared untouched. Some of the spines looked like they had been read a few times, but the difference was minimal; and there was no dust to be spotted. How could one person, even with magic, keep an entire castle clean and every candle lit? Did they just go room by room to magick the dust and spiderwebs away? Seemed like a tiring chore if anything else.  
At the end of the room were two staircases again that led to the second floor, yet between them was another set of big wooden doors much like the ones she had come through. Neither of them budged when she tried pushing or pulling. They were locked.

“Where does that lead?” 

The map stayed, and for a moment she thought she wouldn’t get an answer, but when she turned the piece of paper around she saw their response: 

_‘My personal study room. I prefer to keep it private.’_

Were they in there right now? Had they locked themselves in their study so that she wouldn’t be able to accidentally meet them? With the enormity of the castle and its many winding halls she was sure she would never encounter them by chance - unless there was one place where her mysterious host spent a lot of their time. Could it be that the library and their personal study room were places like that? If she quietly stayed here until midnight, hidden from sight, would she be able to catch a glimpse? One time or another they would have to get out, right?  
Oh what was she thinking. The only thing her host had asked for was privacy, and she wasn’t going to let her curiosity get the best of her – not to mention that they would most likely use magic to move themselves through the castle. They seemed powerful enough, after all. 

Yet asking questions surely couldn’t do much harm? They could decide to leave them unanswered if they wished.  
So she sat herself down at a table and lay the piece of paper down with the backside facing up. 

“How long have you been here, if I may ask?” 

The previous sentence faded and new writing appeared. _‘Many years – far too many to count. I must have lost track along the way.’_

Her brows moved together a little. “All alone?” 

_‘Yes.’_

She could barely imagine a life like that in a place like this, and remembered what they had written:  
‘I am aware that the vastness of the empty castle can feel more like a prison than any brick cell, and that being away from home, alone and confused, can feel like torture.’  
Had they spoken from experience, then? She wondered what had happened to them. 

“Why haven’t you left?” 

The paper was blank for a moment, and she wished that they had been sitting at the other end of the table so that she could see their face and gauge their expressions. Now, all she could do was guess what the ‘silences’ meant. 

_‘It is impossible for me to.’_

Impossible? And yet she would be able to leave whenever she wished? Was it impossible to leave because of the ties they had to this place, or the promises they had made? Did they feel responsible for taking care of the castle? They had been able to rescue her – who knows how far away from the castle grounds – so it being physically impossible wasn’t really the case. Something inside of her felt like this had to do with magic. Most horrible things seemed to be. 

“Were you cursed?” 

Another short silence. Then: 

_‘Interesting first guess. You are not wrong; yet it is not the main reason that I cannot leave. There is nothing out there for me. This castle, hidden away in the woods known for their danger and where most humans do not dare to travel, it offers safety. I can spend my days here in peace. No one needs to know that I am here – and once you leave I must ask you to keep my secret.”_

She read it more than once, trying to figure out what it all meant. What did they mean with ‘there is nothing out there for me’? Why did they want to be left alone in secret? And why did they help her, if it posed a risk to them being discovered? 

“Don’t you get lonely?” 

_‘I have spent a lot of my time, even before this, on my own; differently yet similarly. I am unsure if it is loneliness I feel or if it is simply who I am. Though perhaps you are right, and it may be loneliness that urges me to answer your questions. I haven’t had a visitor in a very long time.’_

“I am not exactly a visitor, as I did not come here of my own accord. Don’t get me wrong – I am beyond grateful for your hospitality and kindness; yet I wonder more and more why you saved me, and how you knew I needed help.” 

The answer was not what she had expected. 

_‘I am unsure as well why I felt compelled to bring you here. Your magic struck me with a force I have never felt before; I could follow it quite easily to your location.’_

She stared at the paper, stared and stared and stared, until the writing itself faded again and it was them who asked the question this time. 

_‘Were you not aware?’_

It was impossible. She had never been able to use the magic that flowed through her, that had been given to her by mistake. She could feel its thrum like she could feel the pulse of her blood, or the beating of her heart, if she focused on it. She could feel how it was intertwined with her, how she was saturated with it. Yet it was inaccessible. No matter what she had tried she had not been able to wield it, and a part of her had never wanted to.  
It was the same magic that had taken her mother’s life. 

“It’s just not possible,” she stated softly, but she wasn’t sure anymore. “Are you certain it was me and not someone else?” 

_‘Beyond doubt. I am sure you must have noticed my healing work. It was difficult to convince your magic that I meant no harm; and when I finally persuaded it, it only allowed me to heal you little by little. You would have been back to full health the moment you woke up if you had been like any other human. It seems very keen on protecting you against other magic users. If I had not been careful, one wrong move could have injured me rather deeply.’_

It was a lot to take in. What else had her magic influenced without her knowledge? Did it have a mind of its own, like some kind of parasite that just happened to be on the same side as her? Or was it ensuring its own survival, regardless of whether or not its host would end up all right?

 _‘You seem confused.’_ An unspoken question in more than one way. 

She shook her head. “I can’t use it. No matter what I tried – meditation, weird concoctions and potions, hypnosis – I just wasn’t able to get to it. It’s there, I know it is. But I can’t use it. Consciously anyway, it seems.” 

_‘I am afraid I don’t understand.’_

It didn’t surprise her. Usually people born with magic were able to use it instinctually, and learn how to control it as they aged – but she had not been a normal case, where her parents had both had magic. Neither of them had. 

“I only vaguely know what happened.” She traced a line in the wooden tabletop, remembering how the story had been told to her.  
After a moment of hesitance she continued. “My mother lived in a township where the lord who protected it had magic, as is usually the case, and he fell in love with her – but my mother was afraid of him. He was very powerful and rich but he didn’t like it when people told him ‘no’. He felt entitled to anything he wanted. When he asked my mother’s hand in marriage she declined, and he threatened her: if she did not change her mind in a year he would either force her to marry him or lock her away and make sure she would never see daylight again.” She paused for a moment, wishing she could imagine their true faces instead of the ones her mind had created.  
“But my mother was in love with my father, and she was pregnant. Eventually the lord found out and in his anger he cursed her, unleashed his magic onto her, until my father knocked him unconscious and took my mother to safety. No one knows how she survived, but she did; and she gave birth to me. A few hours later she passed away.”  
A sigh. It was a story she hadn’t told many people, and yet… Somehow, for some reason, she felt comfortable telling it to someone she had not even seen. Perhaps it was easier to tell a story to an empty room.  
“In his anger he must have worded his curse wrong, or something must have happened when he attacked my mother with his magic. Whatever he had done to her, or us, it was passed on and I was born with the result: magic that was not genetic, and that I could not use.”

After a little while, writing appeared again. _‘I am sorry for your loss.’_

She nodded in acknowledgement. “Thank you.”  
A glass of water appeared and she took a few grateful sips before she continued. 

“My father had to flee and so he took me far away from where I was born, to try and start a life elsewhere. But the lord sent his men after us. Despite my father’s disguises and false identities they found us and we had to move. They were relentless in their pursuit. I think he knew that I had something of his, and he desperately wanted it back no matter how long it would take. We knew he wasn’t going to stop. But we tried to live as normally as we could: my father found a job in every town, I made friends though I knew I would have to leave them someday, I went to school, we celebrated holidays… Sometimes it took quite a few years for them to find us again and it was nice.” 

A napkin appeared next to the glass, and only then did she realise that tears had slipped from the corners of her eyes and down her cheeks. She quickly dried them, her voice not betraying her stale grief. 

“We tried to get my magic to work, too; it could help us with hiding and fighting back. But nothing seemed to work. But it’s like you said; magic can’t seem to hurt me either. I am surprised you managed to heal me at all.” 

_‘Strange indeed. Were it the lord’s men who wounded you?’_

She nodded. “Yes. My father passed away three years ago and I managed to live in the same place since then, until they found me a while back. I wasn’t as prepared as I should have been.” 

Once more she wondered how long she had been here, but it didn’t really matter. She didn’t think they would find her here. To them she was akin to a rat, not someone a rich castle owner would take in and care for, and she hoped it was like her host had written: that the castle was well hidden in the woods, and that it was too dangerous for them to go deeper. 

“I suppose I don’t really have anything to go back to, either.” 

The silence lasted long, but it was a comfortable one. She reminisced on the past and wondered what she could have done differently. How had they found her again? She had been so careful… 

_‘You could stay.’_

“What?” 

_‘Here, in the castle. I can provide you with food and entertainment, and when the storm passes and the weather clears, you can visit the gardens. When spring comes its beauty will return and last until the end of autumn. There is a little lake for fishing or swimming, or you could picknick on the grass; you could ride horseback or read beneath the weeping willow.  
You can have full ownership and tend to the garden beds as you see fit. I will give you any flowers you wish to plant, any materials you need. You can have pets, hire staff, and have guests over for dinner; you could have dances and masquerades in the ballrooms or ask minstrels and musicians to come.  
You could stay.’_

It was an overwhelming offer. She would have the luxury of all of this and more, beyond anything she had ever imagined, anything she had ever longed for. She could have a single place to live without the fear of being attacked and without the need to move. She could eat exotic fruit and freshly baked bread every day, make friends with the staff, pursue her creative interests. But it would all be in someone else’s home, while they kept themselves out of sight, living in secrecy while the liveliness returned to the hallways. 

“Would you want me to?” 

_‘Yes. It might do me good as well, to see other people again.’_

“But they will not be allowed to see you.” 

_‘It is for their own good. My appearance would frighten them so deeply they would leave the very same day.’_

They were afraid that the sight of them would be too horrific? That was why they hadn’t shown themselves? So that she wouldn’t run out into the snowstorm while still wounded, screaming in terror? She couldn’t possibly imagine anything that would have that effect on her – especially knowing how courteous their personality was. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

_‘I have mirrors in my room.’_

She could almost hear the sour look in that statement. She shook her head with a smile in return. “You seem far too self-conscious. If you show yourself to me you could test if it is even anywhere near the truth.” 

_‘And risk losing your company.’_

For some reason that sentence made warmth spread through her chest. It was a good feeling, knowing that someone appreciated her company – even though it was in such a strange and complicated fashion. 

“I am not easily shaken. And besides, I am sure we could appreciate each other’s company even more if we could talk face to face. It feels a little strange to talk to an empty room. If I were to hire any staff and invite any guests, they would surely think I’m insane! I would have to explain the abundance of tropical ingredients in winter when no merchants have come through, too; or the never-ending supply of firewood, though no trees on the grounds or beyond it are being chopped. They would start talking, and who knows where the gossip will lead to. Wouldn’t it just be easier to do it all together and be honest about your magic from the very beginning? And maybe you could even teach me?”

That, especially, got her excited. What if she would finally be able to wield her magic and train it? If those men ever came looking for her again she would be able to fight back! But she knew it was a lot to ask from someone who had already given her almost everything they had to offer. 

_‘It sounds very alluring indeed, yet it will be far more complicated than what you predict. If we were to rule the household together, gossip of a far different kind would arise. The staff would never believe us to be family.’_

What did they- Oh. A strange kind of feeling made her cheeks heat up a little, but she kept reading nonetheless. 

_‘As for the explanations: you yourself could claim to have that magic, and it would not be a lie. No servant would find out that it is someone invisible working behind the scenes. We could both simply live our lives in the way that we deserve to live them.’_

She sighed, dragging a hand down her face. They were stubborn beyond belief. How could they think so lowly of themselves? What had happened, and what curse had been cast on them? She hummed in thought. 

“You said everything I wish for would be granted, right?” 

_‘Indeed.’_

“And what if I wish to see you before I make my decision whether to leave or stay? Surely it would only be fair to know with whom I am living in the same castle.” 

She couldn’t help the challenging look on her face as she stared at the paper. Somehow it had become her goal to persuade them, even though a short while ago she had told herself not to.  
She waited and waited, staring so intently it wouldn’t surprise her if the paper caught on fire. But it didn’t, and a reply appeared: 

_‘Fine. I suppose you are right. Once you are fully healed and the storm has passed, we will meet in the evening and dine together. If you manage to sit through the entire evening without showing fear I will no longer hide myself; and I will teach you how to wield your magic._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Loki.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know what you guys think so far, and how you think this will continue :3 Please don't be afraid to ramble, say 'too much' or 'too little' or post nonsense; I love reading all of it! 🥰


	5. Interlude

Loki? A man, then. The name was vaguely familiar, yet she couldn’t quite recall where or what she had heard about him. She had a feeling that he wouldn’t answer more questions today, however, and that he would only respond to anything she might wish for in silence; so perhaps it was best to leave him be. She had no idea how old he truly was – and guessing from what he had said about having been here for many, many years, she figured it was quite the age – or how the use of magic might drain him. As she thought about him her mind formed an image: a round, saggy face, with thick grey eyebrows and a bushy beard that connected to a fading hairline through his sideburns. Old, kind eyes in which loneliness could be read. His outfit would be proper no doubt, but of a style that was long out of fashion; and maybe he missed an eye or a few teeth, or perhaps a limb. Nothing that would frighten her to the point of instant departure - yet suddenly the remark of possible gossip about the nature of their relationship brought a sour look onto her face. No, there was no way people would think of them like that, right? Perhaps he could pretend to be her adoptive grandfather. 

She pushed the thoughts away and turned her attention to the books instead; wandering through some of the isles, reading spine after spine, partially in the hopes of finding anything that offered insights regarding her host but also in search of something regarding received and non-genetic magic. From what she recognised she could deduce that the books had primarily been ordered based on themes and content, and secondly arranged on the author’s name. If only she knew where to start looking… It seemed like an impossible task. There were parts of the library she was rather certain she wouldn’t need to look, such as the section containing fairy tales and other fantasy-based stories, yet it still left a massive amount of books to work through. She knew her curiosity wouldn’t let up, though.

After a little while she had found a few promising books on an assortment of topics that could possibly contain the information she needed. She had also taken one of the books with a spine that seemed more worn than the others: perhaps it was a book that Sir Loki read more often – yet it could also just have been acquired like this. She then returned to the table, made herself comfortable on the upholstered chair, and began her studies. 

Hours passed as she poured over the pages. At some point she looked up and a plate of food had appeared, her glass had been refilled, and the back of the map had said ‘Please remember to eat and drink.’ She heeded the advice without hesitance but then quickly returned to her reading. The day slipped through her fingers and book after book disappointed her, all piling up on the chair beside her. 

Only when she felt the protests of her bladder and the weariness of her body did she decide to stop for the day, her brain heavy within her skull. Talk about information overload. She would need a good night’s rest to process it all, and when she was well-rested and energetic again she would be able to continue.   
She made her way back to her room, only needing the map a little bit; and once there she relieved herself, dropped her clothing to the floor, and finally managed to climb into the bathtub without hurting too much.

It was heavenly. 

She hadn’t known how much her muscles had been aching and how much her back had hurt until the heat seemed to drain it away. For a moment all she did was lie there with her arms on the marble rim, eyes closed, thoughts drifting off. She enjoyed every second of it. 

The water didn’t cool, as she had expected, and after a while the call for sleep became harder to ignore; so she washed herself with soap, carefully climbed out, dried herself off, and then pealed the soaked linen from her skin to reveal the wounds beneath. Once more her expectations were proven true: the wounds were nearly closed. At this rate it wouldn’t take much longer than two or three days, no more than four, for the flesh to be fully healed – and when it had, and the storm had ceased raging outside, she would dine with her host. The prospect delighted her. Would she be able to convince him to step out of the shadows for good? Would she be able to offer him the excitement of a luxurious life, the return of the castle’s lively spirit, the joy of masquerades and balls – just like he had offered her? The man might be too old to dance, but she was sure it would spark something inside of him that would keep the loneliness at bay. 

And of course there was the promise of teaching her magic. 

Everything about both of their futures seemed bright – if she didn’t fuck it up. One fearful look in her eyes and she knew it would only prove to him what he had told himself, the antagonism he felt towards the reflection in the mirror, and that there would be convincing him otherwise after that. 

She grabbed her underthings and the nightgown from the floor and donned them with a tired sigh before slipping beneath the sheets and laying her head to rest on the pillows. She watched the flames flicker and dance for a little while, listened to their music, and relished in the warmth and safety she felt. Oh how her father would have loved to see the castle, to help around and to read in the library. The feeling of loss washed over her; and though it was an old kind of mourning, it was still as merciless. It felt like only a week had passed since then – and yet, at the same time, it felt like a lifetime ago. 

She hoped that he was watching from wherever his soul had gone, reunited with Mom, and that they were happy to see how their little girl had found the security that they themselves had never had.


	6. Gentle Dream

To say that she often dreamt was an understatement. Most if not all of her nights were filled with adventures and romances, magic and freedom, and complicated stories one might read about in books or strange tales that only made sense in the moment. They were vivid, sometimes even to the point of waking up tired and confused; as if she had not been sleeping at all but had instead been living another life. The last few nights had been completely black as her body had needed every bit of energy to heal. But this night… This night was different. It had the rare lucidity in which she could look around consciously, aware of it all being a dream, and take in whatever her brain had constructed for her; yet there was something that felt off. Or maybe it somehow felt… right. 

A garden stretched out in front of her. She could smell the sweet perfume of flowers on the breeze as the evening cooled down the summer heat. There were voices, too distant to make out any words but spoken in a language she understood even though it wasn’t truly hers. Where was she? It felt… familiar. 

_‘I wonder what goes on inside your mind.’_

With an inaudible gasp she turned around, but there was no one else in the garden. The sun was fading and slowly darkness settled. Stars appeared above. 

_‘Hello?’_ She asked in return, and to her surprise an answer came. 

_‘Do you like the gardens?’_

When she turned, he was there, and for a moment she simply observed him; yet it was hard to make out any features from where she stood. She cautiously made her way over to him. With every slow step it became easier to distinguish the black hair, the sharp jawline, the shapely nose, the thin lips. One step closer and she could see the amused twinkle in his blue-green eyes. 

_‘I do,’_ she admitted. _‘Are they yours?’_

_‘In a way they are. Or... used to be.’_ His voice was deep, lilting, silvery. His accent was intoxicating. A little smile tugged on the corner of his mouth and it only added to the strange, graceful beauty. _‘Would you like to see more?’_

She took his arm when he offered it, the eye contact lasting a little longer before they started walking. For a while neither spoke. Her mind was occupied with multiple things at once, after all – trying to figure out why it felt like she had been here before, trying to think of things to say, and admiring how real the fabric of his sleeve felt beneath her hand. Her brain had really outdone itself this time. 

He lead her past the luscious garden beds, where nightly insects hummed in search of nectar, and past old and worn statues that vines had usurped. _‘You are easy company.’_ His smile was audible in his voice. 

A smile formed on her lips as well. _‘Simply because I do not speak?’_

He surprised her by laughing; the joyful sound carrying through the night. _‘Perhaps, though there are many other reasons. Is there anywhere you would like to go?’_

She hummed in thought. _‘A library, maybe. I need to find information on a man named Loki; I’ll be having dinner with him soon and there is something I have forgotten but which I know I need to remember.’_

And as they kept walking the flowers faded and made way for golden pillars and bookcases, seamlessly bringing them from one location to the other as dreams could do. He watched her, leaning against one of those large pillars, while she started to search; amusement written all over his face. 

_‘He sounds important.’_

_‘If I find out who he is I might be able to prepare, and if I’m prepared there’s a bigger chance I will succeed.’_ She pulled out a book, flipped through it, and put it back with a sigh. _‘Yet it feels like such an impossible task.’_

_‘I could tell you what I know about him?’_

That made her turn with wide eyes. _‘You know about him?’_

_‘I’ve heard stories.’_

Though he was but a figment of her imagination she could already tell that she did not mind spending time with the attractive dream-man; and if he could offer her information that might be buried deep beneath her subconscious or in a part of her education from many years ago, who was she to decline? However if she remembered this dream in the morning she would take the stories with a grain of salt. She wouldn’t be able to fully trust him, as nightly characters had often tricked her into believing very strange things that just seemed so logical while dreaming. It was still her imagination, after all. 

_‘Please tell me, anything could help.’_

_‘As you wish,’_ he replied, and the scene changed again until the two of them were sitting comfortably on a sofa by a crackling fire; two cups of steaming tea resting on the low table in front of them. She realised it might be the fireplace in her bedroom that she was hearing while asleep.  
He made himself comfortable, his left foot on the ground and the other resting on his knee with his right arm draped over the backrest and his left hand resting in his lap. His smile hadn’t faded yet. 

_‘He was a prince once, I believe. A selfish and cruel one, leading a rebellion against the king because he thought he could rule better. He had a thirst for power and admiration. With trickery and lies he won the trust of the many who were fooled by his promises and with a show of his magic he convinced them that he was the rightful heir, the rightful king, until he was cast out and cursed for his treachery and deceit.’_  
He picked up his cup and brought it to his lips to take a sip, and she realised she had been leaning forward. He continued just as casually:  
_‘I heard they turned him into a hideous monster and locked him away somewhere.’_

She took her cup as well, but she was too lost in thought to do much else. The story was very familiar indeed, she was rather sure she had heard it before. Should she believe it all, then? 

_‘I talked to him – well, exchanged letters with him, I suppose – and he didn’t sound all that bad…’_

The dream-man hummed. _‘He was known for his smooth lies. They called him Silvertongue, I believe. Perhaps he tricked you. What did you say was at stake again?’_

She met his piercing gaze and suddenly everything changed in perspective. What if it had all been some kind of game, where the goal was to make her stay? What would happen to her if she decided to do so? Would the curse then pass onto her, binding her to the castle and freeing a powerful magic user into the world to take revenge on those who wronged him? She would still get what she wanted, in a way: she wouldn’t need to change locations every few years. Instead she would be stuck in one place. There would be no way to invite people over as she couldn’t use her own magic, and even if she could, everyone would be scared off at the very sight of her - perhaps she would even be hunted.

 _‘I… I’m not sure what to think anymore. If you’re right and all he does is trick people for his own gain, then it might be dangerous to stay much longer, let alone to have dinner with him. But I can’t leave until my wounds are healed and the storm has passed…’_ She watched the swirling water in her cup, her head hurting from thinking too many things at once and not finding a conclusion. A little splash surprised her. Another one when she squinted in confusion. Droplets slid down her nose and fell into her teacup, and she realised she was crying - for the second time in only a matter of hours. 

_‘What is wrong?’_ He sounded genuinely concerned and set his cup down on the table again, leaning forward a little but not daring to let his hand come to rest on her shoulder. 

_‘Now that the certainty I felt is gone... I suppose I simply miss my father still. It’s been a while since I’ve felt safe after his passing, and now it seems that it might not be safe after all. Oh, what have I gotten myself into? I can almost hear him reprimand me for being too careless, like he did when I was a little girl.’_ She huffed out a short laugh, but it felt empty. _‘I wonder if I will ever find a peaceful and safe place to live.’_

_‘As long as you are here, you are safe,’_ he promised with a passion she hadn’t expected, and the gesture was so kind her heart contorted in near painful ways. She craved a gentle touch, the support of a friend, the attentiveness of a lover; and so without asking – since he was simply her fantasy anyway – she leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his midsection, burying her face into his chest as the tears kept coming in silence. 

_‘Thank you,’_ She whispered, 

And after a moment of hesitance he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.


	7. Good Company

When she woke up, she remembered everything; and she wished she could go back. She wished that the dream could have lasted a little longer, that she could have inhaled his scent for a few more breaths, that they could have finished their tea and had found a distraction from all the uncertainty and fear. The dream-man had been right in ways he hadn’t spoken out loud: the castle seemed too good to be true, and it was best to stay weary. But she was also stubborn, and so the thought of just not showing up to the dinner didn’t sit right with her either. She needed to know. Was this man truly the exiled prince, and if so, how monstrous had they made him? Perhaps it was a morbid kind of curiosity that made her decide she would go through with her plan, or perhaps she wanted to prove to both of them that she could control her fear and look a cursed man straight in the eyes. 

She wished she still had their written exchanges, to read them back and remember why his messages had felt so heartbreakingly lonely. Had it all been fake?

After her morning routine she spent the day much like the previous one; though this time with a clue as to where to look. She had lunch and dinner in the library and only stood and left when nature called, but returned immediately after and continued where she had left off: she had found a book on the history of multiple kingdoms and after scanning through half of the chapters she got to the one that contained the information she had been looking for. It all boiled down to what her subconscious self, shaped like the handsome man, had told her: prince Loki had been every bad adjective one could think of wrapped in one person. And she was to have dinner with him. She wasn’t sure if she believed the book in its entirety, however: it seemed biased towards certain kings and queens, and some of the claims were a little far-fetched – not to mention that the text was clearly written by someone who loathed magic users and who still believed the age-old legends of them devouring children and stealing young maidens. It even said that it was Loki himself and his ‘savage magic’ that turned him into a beast. But the book contained a description, and it was beyond intriguing. 

_‘Eyes red as blood, filled with rage and murderous intent, set in a hideous face from which many horns protrude; its mouth filled with rows and rows of teeth sharp as knives to rip its prey apart. It towers above any man and can kill in a single blow with claws like those of a bear and runs faster on its four legs than a thoroughbred horse in full gallop. Be wary of its words, as it will not hesitate to hypnotise and trick the mind, and do not touch its wretchedly blue skin, for it will freeze the flesh beyond repair.’_

That did sound rather awful indeed, and the shapes that formed inside her mind were beyond nightmarish. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be as easy as she had expected it to be… 

Once the book shifted to another royal someone she did not care about she put it back and began once more to search for similar passages in different ones, and so she spent the rest of the day in the library until her eyes began to feel heavy and her spine and wounds began to protest. Then she made her way back to her room, took care of whatever needed taking care of, and crawled into bed as soon as she had donned her nightgown. 

And when she opened her eyes, she was in that dream again; and the dream-man was there. 

_‘How are you feeling?’_

She smiled back at him. _‘Better than the last time we spoke. I’m glad to see you again; I was worried it would be one of those dreams to which I wouldn’t be able to return.’_

Something in his gaze softened, seemed almost pained in its expression, but it was gone before she could give it a name. _‘Did you manage to find more on that banished prince?’_

_‘A little, I think; but I’m too tired to think about it.’_

_‘How about we go for another walk, then.’_

_‘That sounds lovely.’_

And so she took his arm and the scenery changed to that of a town. Children were running around the street playing games and laughing loudly, their parents talking to one another while keeping an eye on them from a little distance, and passers-by stepped in and out of shops with bags on their arms already filled with purchases. It was an early afternoon, with a clear, bright sky and soft clouds slowly floating overhead. It was peaceful. Without truly noticing it herself she leaned her head against his shoulder and admired the wares on display in windowsills as they walked. 

_‘I wish I could buy the things I see in my dream and take them with me when I wake up.’_

_‘We can still admire it while we are here. If there is any place you would like to have a look inside, simply say so and we will enter.’_

She smiled. 

For a while they just kept walking, occasionally stopping so she could look a little closer, and eventually the breeze carried a peculiar scent with it that made her eyes widen. Salt, fish, wet wood and cotton canvas. 

_‘Are we close to the sea?’_

_‘Would you like to go there?’_

_‘Yes!’_

Her excitement grew as she spotted the tips of sails raising above the houses and shops and when they got to the harbour her smile couldn’t get any bigger. She grabbed his hand and dragged him along as she ran to the docks, her laughter joining that of the seagulls overhead; and the echo of their footsteps rang out beneath the wooden planks with each loud step until they reached the very end of the dock.   
Staring at the vast blue beyond, her racing heart was more at ease than it had ever been. Her hand still held on to his. 

_‘I can barely believe it. I can feel the salty breeze on my skin, hear the waves, see how the sun shimmers on the surface. It’s as if I’m there!’_ She turned to her companion and enveloped him in a hug, her cheeks hurting from smiling. _‘It’s incredible, thank you so much.’_

He held her in return and rested his cheek atop her head. Perhaps it was laughable, that she had found a friend in her own subconscious, but she didn’t quite care. She looked down at the water and the swaying weeds that grew from the wooden pilings, without breaking their embrace. 

_‘I long for summer, for swimming. Me and my father taught ourselves in a little lake when I was young. Can you swim?’_

He chuckled. _‘Of course. There is a beach nearby, if you would like to? I am certain the water will be pleasingly warm.’_

Of course he would be able to swim, and of course the water would be pleasant. It was so easy to forget that this was all just a dream. After staring at the horizon for a little longer they made their way to the little beach that was party surrounded by cliffs and where rocks higher than buildings stood both on the sand and further out into the water. No one else was there, but she didn’t mind. Knowing she had control of the dream she switched herself to an outfit more suited for swimming and waited for the dream-man to do the same – but she saw hesitance on his face as he turned it away. 

_‘Don’t you want to swim, too?’_

_‘It isn’t proper for us to swim together.’_

She laughed. _‘There is no one here, and besides, it’s a dream! Come on, it’ll be fun!’_

He hesitantly turned his face back to meet her eyes and only then did she notice the slight blush, but he nodded. _‘I suppose you are right.’_ And in a blink he, too, had changed into swimming pants; his pale chest bare. She hid her own blush by turning to the water. 

It amazed her how her feet sank a little bit into the sand with every step, how the returning and retreating waves flowed past her ankles, and how it truly felt as if she was slowly wading into the sea. She was a little nervous, though she had no reason to be. It wasn’t a real sea! She couldn’t drown.   
She walked until the water came to her hips and then turned around to watch the dream-man do the same, his eyes trained on her. Something fluttered in her belly. Neither of them looked away as he slowly made his way over to her and the fluttering only increased and increased to an almost painful crescendo when he stopped right in front of her, looking down a little as his height won over hers, and she felt weak in a way that she recognised: she was very, very much attracted to him. And who could blame her? He was her fantasy come true in this very moment, he was her aesthetic preferences in a man and he was kind and gentle, too. He listened to her, comforted her, took her to lovely places… He was her wishes in a partner personified. It was almost sad to realise that he wouldn’t exist when she woke up again. 

She hid her thoughts with a grin and splashed some water at him. _‘You haven’t told me anything about yourself yet. Did you swim often? What else do you like doing?’_

They both lowered themselves until their shoulders were beneath the surface too, and a little smile returned to his face. _‘I read a lot.’_

She had indeed been reading a lot. Perhaps it was useless to ask questions; the answers she got would be obvious, after all. Maybe she should just try to have fun, do things she wouldn’t be able to do when awake; such as… flirting with a handsome man. The thought excited her, though she didn’t want to think about the possible narcissism that hid beneath falling in love with a male version of herself. She was sure it was normal, right? It was only logical to feel comfortable around someone that your brain had created for you, and what was the harm? But she shouldn’t rush it – she loved it when they slowly fell in love with one another and then came together in a burst of passion. How would she orchestrate it? What would his backstory be, and what would hers be? Maybe she could be the healer of a small village, or part of a pirate crew; or maybe she could be a princess and their marriage could be arranged. She would resist his company in the beginning, and then slowly come to love her betrothed, and everything would work out so lovely in the end-

A splash of water shook her from her thoughts and she sputtered from the water that had entered her nose and mouth. The salty taste was, sadly, very realistic as well. 

_‘You didn’t respond to my question,’_ the dream-man said innocently, but she could see how he was trying to hold back a grin. Joy bubbled up inside of her and she allowed her own grin to form. 

_‘I apologise; could you please repeat the question?’_

She splashed water back at him right in his mouth when he opened it to speak – making him the one spewing out salt water in disgust. She couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from her lungs and she could only shield her face with her hands when he retaliated, blindly splashing back with her eyes pressed shut and her face turned away. He, too, laughed as water flew everywhere. 

_‘I yield, I yield!’_ She laughed and crossed her arms in front of her face, and he ceased his playful offence. 

Her ideas of orchestrating the dream were long forgotten as they spent the afternoon swimming, climbing rocks, and talking about everything and nothing at all. The sun was starting to set when they left the beach and ventured back into town.

Yet as they stood watching the crews of the ships haul wares on board, the seagulls still squawking from up in the sky, his good mood seemed to dwindle; and the silence became different. She watched him from the corner of her eye. He was looking without seeing, the distant gaze giving away his troubled state of mind. What was wrong?   
He answered as if reading her mind, like the people in dreams always could. 

_‘You will leave soon.’_

His words made her feel all kinds of things. She was flattered, of course, that he truly enjoyed her company so much that her leaving saddened him; yet why did he sound so lonely, so resigned to that fate? 

_‘I will be back tomorrow night,’_ she promised, hoping she would indeed be able to return. 

He met her eyes, and she couldn’t fully read the emotions in them, but he gave a small smile; as if her words only partially soothed him. _‘I look forward to it.’_

She returned the smile. _‘So do I.’_   
And she awoke.


	8. The Man Who Does Not Exist

For two more nights she returned to the lucidity where the dream-man was waiting for her. They laughed, teased, travelled from one place to another in the seamless fading that took mere seconds; they had lunch and dinner together, played games together, and enjoyed their comfortable silences. It was a type of fun she had missed and had longed for. Time seemed to pass quickly; where she knew it could only be one night in real life, they spent an entire day together each time they met - yet it didn’t last as long as she would want it to. Her attraction to him was undeniable. When she held onto his arm as they walked together she wished it was bare skin to skin, when he laughed she felt the butterflies go wild, and when he looked into her eyes and smiled at her it was as if her knees wanted to buckle. She wanted more than the gentle touches, the lingering looks, the leaning against one another when sitting down somewhere. But there was a kind of weariness and caution that she could read in his posture. He seemed afraid. Did he not reciprocate, as she had just assumed he would simply because her imagination had created him?

When she felt that the night was ending and her time was running out, his fear seemed to increase. Should she just ask him? But then she realised: her wounds would without a doubt be fully healed tomorrow, and then she would have dinner with a cruel and selfish prince. It was her own anxiety that she saw reflected in her dreamy creation. So she did not comment on it, and tried to bury her fear deep down in the hopes of still being able to enjoy their fading time together. 

They sat on a willow that had grown almost perfectly horizontal, their feet submerged in the water of the lake. It was late; the setting sun cast its last golden rays through the treetops and fireflies were slowly making their presence known in the dark blue shade.  
It was him who spoke first. 

_“You will probably be recovered when you wake up. Are you nervous?”_

_“A little,”_ she admitted, _“but I have to do this.”_

His brow furrowed slightly. _“Why? You will still have all the luxury of the castle if you don’t join him for dinner and simply ignore his existence. What if he is nightmarish after all, and you want to leave immediately? Where would you go?”_

 _“Well, I, for one, think it’s rude to ignore an invitation,”_ she gave him a playful smile, _“and even if I did ignore his existence I would always know that he’s there. He would have to do all the magic stuff, anyway. Besides, if I don’t go and decide to live here to bring the castle back to life, and he dies after a few years, I would have to send the entire staff off again with no means of providing them with safety or food during their travels. They would have to find another job and another place to live, if they even survive getting through the woods.”_

Then she wondered: how would the staff get here in the first place? Or guests? Could Loki open up some sort of pathway? Would he magick posters of job offers and invitations to balls to nearby towns? She would ask if it got to that point. 

_“And if he’s terrifying…”_ She sighed and shook her head. _“It’s not something I’m really afraid of. What I am afraid of, is that this might all be some kind of convoluted form of trickery; that he wants me to say ‘I want to stay here’ or something similar, so that he can pass his curse onto me and flee. I’ve read about – and experienced – how powerful his magic is. What if he is evil after all, and I release him back into the world?”_

His smile was wide, almost grin-like, and it was her turn to frown. _“What? Why are you smiling like that?”_

A huff of a laugh slipped from his lungs. _“Nothing in particular; no need to worry.”_

She studied his face, the amused twinkling in his eyes, and felt her fears ease up a little. _“I’m overthinking this, aren’t I?”_

_“Not at all; you are doing everything you can to be prepared for something you cannot prepare for. I think it is admirable.”_

She averted her eyes back to her feet, moving them slowly back and forth through the water so she could focus on something else than the stirring warmth in her chest. _“Wouldn’t you do the same?”_

 _“Perhaps. I do enjoy luxury, though in the last few years I’ve come to realise that I would be content in a small abode, too. I suppose even a busy castle might never compare to a lively town.”_

A silence fell as she thought about his words. Would she truly be happy here? Stuck in the same place? Was it a home worth being bound to, with or without her own magic? 

_“As long as I can dream like this and go to all kinds of places with you, being stuck here might not be that bad.”_

The look in his eyes was impossible to name and it held her gaze with an intensity that almost made her shiver – but there was some kind of desperation in it, too. She dared to smile and gave his shoulder a pat. _“You’re good company as well.”_

He smiled in return, though wistfully; his shoulders didn’t stand as tall and proud as they usually did, and his brow wrinkled just a little. _“I will miss you.”_ He lifted his hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. 

_“I suppose this is our goodbye.”_

Her eyes widened, yet before she could respond the dream began to fade and dissolve – 

and she woke up in an empty room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me a while to upload! The start of my new courses has been hectic and busy, but very fun. I totally forgot to upload! And it's a short one too... Sorry about that. From this point onward I do not have many more chapters ready to go, so uploads will slow down even more, but I hope that it won't be more than a month between each update. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter! 🥰❤


	9. Dinner with a Monster

The floor was cold beneath her feet as she sat on the edge of her bed, her hands folded in her lap. The silence was deafening. Not even the wind sounded out beneath the curtain-covered windows, not even the fire seemed to offer warmth. The farewell he had spoken had sounded so definite, so permanent, that the memory of it even managed to bring tears to her eyes. Silly her, getting attached to a man who doesn’t exist – a man her own mind had created. Hadn’t she convinced herself long ago that she was not destined to be in love? Hadn’t she made peace with that? She shook her head and brushed the forming moisture away. Breakfast. 

The food didn’t delight her as much as it usually did, though the quality was once again beyond incredible; and even the warm bath she took as a means to take her mind off her dreams had the opposite effect – she simply could not get him out of her mind. His laugh, his smile, his touch, the emerald and sapphire hues swirling in his eyes…  
She submerged herself to halfway up her face and stared out over the soapy surface of the water, the bubbles an ever-shifting opalescent in the candlelight. Perhaps it was best if she did not return to that dream after all; if she just let herself slip into the comforting black that brought her to the next morning within what felt like seconds. 

She did not feel like wandering the hallways or exploring new rooms, so she dried herself off, put on something comfortable, pulled the curtains away to let in the light, and returned to the armchair near the fire. No bandages and no pain or difficulty walking: her skin looked and felt as if it had never been damaged at all. The books she had gathered from the library in the previous days were waiting where she had left them and she resumed her reading where she had stopped the day before; letting her imagination swallow her whole as she conjured the story inside her mind. It was a welcome distraction. 

Time passed, lunch was had, and the sky began to darken. Her nerves slowly returned as the fateful dinner came closer and closer. It made it difficult to focus on the writing anymore and so she set the book aside and moved to the ensuite closet. What should she wear? Should she put her hair in some fancy updo? She stared at the array of gowns in front of her, hesitantly brushing her hand over the fabric of one. They were all so expensive and royal-looking that they could make anyone look good; so what was there to worry about? Sir Loki probably wasn’t going to reprimand her for not knowing what was according to etiquette or what dress was or wasn’t suited for certain occasions – he was most likely worrying more about his own appearance than hers – so why bother with technicalities?  
She picked a dark-green gown, shoulderless, with sleeves that widened until they stopped at the elbow. The bodice was embroidered with a fernlike pattern that was only a subtle shade darker than the fabric beneath, and the bottom flowed down without too much added volume. It was simple yet elegant. The pair of matching slippers was easily found, and she admired herself in the mirror – though her hair left much to be desired. She relocated to the bathroom and brushed the mess until it was presentable. 

Then her eyes spotted a little wooden box on one of the cabinets. Had it been there before? It opened without needing a key and revealed three veloured compartments, each one containing a beautiful golden necklace, and a little gasp fell from her lips. Did her host want her to wear one? What if she broke it? Ah, she guessed he would be able to fix it with magic, but still it felt like some sort of forbidden fruit, like a step too far, even with all the luxury she had already been able to enjoy here. She had never had a necklace of her own before; at least not one of any value. He wouldn’t have left them here if he didn’t want her to wear them, so perhaps it would be rude to leave the gesture unanswered? She chose the smallest golden chain out of the three without giving it much more thought and lifted it from the box to admire the tiny gemstone that hung from it. It shimmered beautifully. With a little fumbling she managed to secure the small clasp behind her neck and the stone came to rest in the shallow dip between her collarbones.  
She had noticed the other, flatter box containing makeup a few days ago, yet had left it where it stood; she was certainly curious how it would look on her and the colours looked gorgeous, but she had no idea how to wield the different brushes and applicators. She had seen many styles go into and fall out of fashion within months, too - so who knew that was popular nowadays, anyway?

She stared at her reflection, though her mind was far too busy to appreciate the view. Her body was stalling. Nailed to the ground and unmoving in every other way she stared and stared, and a sense of dread washed over her: so much seemed to depend on what was to come. Could she do it? Could she convince him to tread into the light of day and make himself known to her and others? Could she secure not only her own future, but that of his – a man whom she had not met, and did not truly know? There were the worries again, about magic and curses and the corruptive nature of power. She sighed. Time to see how fearless she truly was. 

Guided by the map and the light of lanterns, candles, and chandeliers, she made her way through the castle’s long and winding hallways; their emptiness evoking a melancholy that reminded her of the loneliness of her host.  
Strangely enough it caused some of her confidence to return.  
To build onto that feeling she pictured the old man in her mind again, with his greying beard and bushy eyebrows, and visualised the ache in his eyes. And it worked: empathy and determination began to push away uncertainty. With every step she added to the picture and wove in more details – about how his eyes would lit up with mirth at the dancing of guests in his ballroom, how his cheeks would flush with excitement at meeting new people and exchanging stories. Winter would melt away and he could go riding again, or fishing, or whatever he favoured doing in spring! For however long he might still have to live, his time would be joyful.

She reached the big double doors that led to the room he had marked on the map and pushed them open, but what was inside was not what she had expected. She looked around, the door slowly falling shut behind her, and darkness took over most of the hall.  
She had thought that they would dine in a small room with a table for two, yet this table stretched so far she could only barely see the end at the other side, and only a few candles lit up the glass domes that covered plates of different foods. There was no one else present but her. She couldn’t be mistaken about the location… Perhaps she was a little early? Luckily her knowledge of seating etiquette wouldn’t be tested, as the two plates were already laid out with all the fancy cutlery beside them. Who even needed that many knives, forks, and spoons? Oh well, she would just copy what he did.  
A plate had been set on each head of the table and as she sat down she realised how far away her host would be. Would she even be able to make out any features in this darkness? Was this a way to protect her from however horrible he might look? The four fireplaces that flanked the table were unlit but would no doubt chase away the dark, so it certainly was a conscious choice.

As she sat there and waited, watching the little flames slowly dance their way down the candle, the darkness grew. She checked the back of the map multiple times but no message had appeared. He couldn’t have forgotten – after all, this was his idea; and he set the table himself!  
After the sixth time of picking the piece of paper up again she decided to just leave it on her plate right in front of her to stare at it. After another couple of minutes she began to consider calling out to him. 

But the exact moment she parted her lips to speak, all the hairs in the back of her neck stood up.  
A coldness crawled through the room and goosebumps spread down her shoulders and arms as she froze in her seat, her hands holding on to the armrests as her whole body silently sounded the alarm. 

Something was moving behind her. 

She could hear the inhale and exhale of a creature that was undeniably larger, much larger, than she was, and the click-clack of claws tapping against the stone floor with every step made her own nails dig further into the wood. 

She realised that she had made a horrible mistake. 

The low growl-like rumble that sounded out from behind her back made her close her eyes and desperately try to control her heart and her breathing. It was too late to run – the very twitch of a muscle could set off whatever slowly made its way closer. Could it smell her fear? How she sat there in cold sweat, her thoughts so loud it deafened her? 

_“Are you scared yet?”_

Her eyes shot open as the voice rang through her mind like the piercing clarity of a tuning fork. 

“Loki?” she dared to whisper, her voice not risking to go louder. 

_“I am here, as I promised I would be.”_

She kept her eyes trained on the wall at the opposite end of the room when black fur filled the right side of her vision, the movement of powerful, chorded muscles still obvious beneath. Click-clack. Click-clack.  
_Run_ , begged every fibre of her being, but she couldn’t move. 

_“Tell me, dear guest. Are you terrified?”_

Then her brow furrowed slightly. His voice… Why did it sound so familiar? She took a deep breath. 

“I am not, as I promised I wouldn’t be.” 

A dark laugh, just as crystal clear, and her eyes widened. It was not the voice or the laugh of an old man – it was young and silvery, dark and alluring. It sounded so much like…  
It couldn’t be, could it? Was it some sort of a bizarre coincidence? Was she just mistaken? 

_“Liar.”_

He stopped moving, and her confusion won over her fear: she moved her head to look at him. Red eyes that seemed as if they were glowing pierced back into her own. Her heart skipped a beat – yet she did not break eye contact. 

“You are purposefully trying to scare me; it seems a little unfair.” Oh how she was grateful for her unwavering voice, quiet yet strong enough to sound at least a little confident. 

The vague puzzle pieces did not match and her eyes began to study him, observe him, as if trying to find the answers there. Her eyes moved from his blood-red gaze down his wolf-like maw, then back up to the four ivory horns that protruded from his skull and leaned backwards where they ended in sharp tips. She followed the blackness of his fur to his shoulders and his back. Despite his size, horns, long claws and ruby eyes, he was more wolf-like than truly monstrous, and her fear began to fade. Why had that text mentioned blue skin? That part especially stood out to her, as all she could see was the rich black fur. Why not just call him a big, strange wolf? He even had the fluffy tail and triangular ears to match. 

_“It would only be unfair if it worked.”_ His tone had changed, from menacing and deliberately dark to slightly surprised and confused, and maybe even a tad frustrated. _“Perhaps I have not made clear to you that you are in incredible danger.”_

His muzzle twisted into a snarl, showing sharp white teeth, and he reared up onto his hind legs – revealing the almost humanoid build of his body. Still no blue, though. After a few seconds of silence on both ends his snarl disappeared and he studied her. 

_“I would almost think you do not even want to live.”_

“What, you’re threatening to kill me? After healing me when I almost died?” She lifted a brow at him. “You can’t expect me to believe that.” Her fear had faded at this point. 

His ears moved back in something akin to annoyance. _“I suppose you are right. I… had not thought that through.”_

That actually made her snort, and a playful sparkle appeared in her eyes. “How are you going to use cutlery with those claws, anyway?” 

He turned one claw so that his palm was facing up and a darkness washed over him for a moment, and when it disappeared it left a whole other creature in its spot. His claw had turned into a human hand, though bigger, and now holding a fork; his skin a pale blue. Ah, so there it was; the description had been somewhat right after all.  
White fabric poked out from underneath the sleeve of his coat where little silver lines danced across the black, and she followed his arm up to his chest. There, the white shirt was visible again; held captive beneath a vest on which the elegant design of silver was incorporated as well. He still stood quite a bit taller than one would consider human, but it was far from off-putting. 

And when she lifted her eyes to meet his, her breathing halted: 

it was undeniably, unmistakably _him_. 

The man from her dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we goooooooooo


	10. From The Start

Her excitement for the next morning would have kept her awake if it had not been for the intensity of the evening. The wide array of quickly succeeding emotions – fear, confusion, uncertainty, frustration, delight – had worn her out more than she had thought; and when her head had hit the pillow, her consciousness had faded. No dreams this time. She woke up a little disappointed, yet she had expected nothing else: if he had entered her dreams again in the same shape and with the same voice, and she had asked him a question of which she herself did not know the answer, she would have known the truth immediately. She already sort of knew it, of course, but she wanted to hear him admit it. 

After a quick morning routine she made her way to the library. It was difficult to keep her joy from showing, and when she swung open one of the heavy wooden doors and spotted Loki in the back it manifested into a wide smile. He was wearing a different outfit today; still black but this time with a dark blue undertone to it and golden vines trailing in a singular line across the fabric of his sleeves and lapel. He looked undeniably handsome again. 

“Good morning!”

“Good morning,” he replied, and as she approached she saw him size her up before sighing deeply. “You still have a lot to learn.” 

Was it the dress? She had simply put on the same one as yesterday, as she quite liked the design, and she had only worn it for a couple of hours the day before. Perhaps it was only suited for evenings? Or maybe it was her untamed excitement? She figured she would find out soon enough.   
“Which is why I’m here, of course.” 

He gestured for her to sit and then took the chair across from her, blank paper and a quill appearing on the dark wood. “Write something.” 

She blinked. “What?” 

“Preferably a sentence.” 

No ’how did you sleep’ or ‘did you enjoy breakfast’, it seemed. Was small talk impolite too, or did he simply want to get it over with? She blinked at the paper and wrote the first thing that came up: 

_‘I look forward to spending the day together.’_

She shifted the paper around so he didn’t have to read upside-down and kept her eyes trained on his face, determined to spot even the tiniest of change in his expression. It did not change, however, and after a short inspection he spoke: 

“As expected your handwriting needs some work. From this moment onwards I want you to write for an hour every day, be it a story or the same sentence repeated a thousand times. Pay attention to the movement of it, however – don’t mindlessly scribble the words like you did just now.” 

No particular emotion could be filtered from his tone, apart from maybe slight condescension. She paid it no mind. Instead, she took the liberty of looking at him. He had combed his hair back again and had fixed it with some kind of wax, or perhaps he even held his hair in place with magic; his blue skin looked healthy and his red eyes stood bright - yet the look in them was distant. Cold. The man that sat across from her was the same as the one she had dined with yesterday, yet he was different, too. What had changed? 

He lifted a hand and in one swift motion moved it over the table, palm turned downwards, and a book appeared beneath it. 

“You can write in this; it will be easier to see your progress. Some writing equipment will be waiting for you in your room after we finish our little study session today.” 

She took it and let her hand slide over the leather cover, aware of the fine craftsmanship that hid in its simplicity. “Ah, uhm, thank you.”   
Yet his words made her frown a little. Would he teach her only for a few hours or so, then, and expect her to return to her room afterwards?

But the morning continued and it seemed her worries had been for naught, as time began to fly past and Loki did not seem to be done any moment soon. Throughout it he questioned her on every single topic she could think of – but no matter the answers she guessed or truly knew, he did not seem content with any of them. Her excitement slowly faded. The things she needed to know to run a household, let alone a whole castle, were beyond overwhelming; and there was so much more to it than she had ever been able to think of. She would need to be able to read people for their trustworthiness and know when someone was lying to her, or be able to figure out who was stealing and what had been taken; she would need to know about every craft on the perimeters so no merchants would ever be able to fool her into buying horrible materials for exorbitant prices, and she would need to be able to gather gossip without making others aware that she knew about it. And then there were all the intrigues – powerplays and scheming, people who would try to flatter and charm her to get in her good graces and benefit from it, and those who were an outright danger as they would do anything to get higher up the social ladder. Choosing the right staff was key. 

“I will invite fifteen people to the castle in seven days from now, and you will need to pick one of them to be your steward. The steward will watch over finances and the grounds when you are busy with other things, and in general will manage the staff so that everything is running smoothly. In addition they will be in charge of legal affairs and, in combination with a judge, will handle criminal incidents; so choose well. Which traits will you base your choice on?” 

His gaze was piercing, demanding, relentless. She tried not to show the uncertainty she felt and answered with a steady, determined voice: 

“Trustworthiness, honesty, loyalty, intelligence, knowledge, organising skills.” She thought for a moment. “Kindness and fairness, too, if they are to manage the rest of the staff. They will need to be able to write and to do calculations, and know when someone is lying to them.” 

Loki nodded. “Picking your staff is one of the hardest things you will do in the coming weeks. Today we will discuss some of the positions that will need to be filled and which skills and traits are necessary for them, and in these next few days we will focus on learning how to fill all those positions yourself – starting at the lowest one. Only when you know how the work is done, will you be able to judge someone else for it.” 

Loki did not let up in his teachings. He was harsh, almost a little cruel at times, with frustration in his gaze and impatience in his posture. But the things he taught her were valuable. 

They started with the position of ‘chamberkeepers’, maids and servants who took care of the fires, bedding, and overall cleanliness of the rooms. Loki took her to one of the unused rooms close to the library and used his magic to undo the pristine state of it: dust appeared everywhere, the sheets began to move into bundles and wrinkles as if it were alive, and things began to appear in places where they should not be. The first thing Loki wanted was for her to observe and think. Whose room was this? What had changed? Where had things previously been? What state did everything need to return to? Then he showed her where to begin and what to keep in mind. 

Step one: gather everything that does not belong in the bedroom and set it all aside in one spot. Be careful not to break or damage anything.   
Step two: take the bedding off, fold it, and lay it on a neat pile outside the door together with any used clothing – one of the maids or servants in charge of laundry will come and collect it. The bedding will be replaced with a freshly washed set, and the clothes will be returned later.  
Step three: open the windows and tackle the dust, high surfaces first and working downwards. Don’t forget to dust the curtains, too.  
Step four: move the items previously put aside to the rooms they should be in: bathroom items to the bathroom, stray shoes to the closet, and so on. Put things that need to go elsewhere in the castle, such as plates and cups, outside of the door so another chamberkeeper can collect it.   
Step five: put the new, clean set of bedding on.   
Step six: clean the floor and windows if needed.  
Step seven: take note of everything that needs to be replaced, be it candles, oil for the lamps, or wood for the fireplace. Close the windows in winter, but keep them open in summer if the weather allows it. 

Loki watched with crossed arms as she tried to do it both fast and thoroughly, but she did not have the training a true chamberkeeper would have. When she had completed all the tasks she was exhausted.   
With laboured breaths she leaned on the broom, looking at what she had accomplished – and though magic would always be more thorough she was definitely content with it. She turned her proud smile to Loki, who had not taken his eyes off her once. 

“So what do you think?” 

He pressed his lips together for a fraction of a second, as if he was hesitant about speaking; but then he straightened his shoulders and the coldness returned to his gaze. “If you were my chamberkeeper I would be beyond dissatisfied with your work. You took over two hours to clean the bedroom alone and you have not even started the bathroom nor the closet; you’ve forgotten to dust the bedcurtains and to sweep beneath the bed, and your technique was sloppy and inefficient. You would have been fired without a second thought.” 

The pride faded, as did her smile, and her shoulders felt a little heavier than they had felt before. She hadn’t been aware of her desire to please or impress him, but the fact that she failed was demoralizing. 

“But it’s not about what I think of how you did,” he continued, his tone a little softer. “It is about what you have learnt. So tell me; what have you learnt?” 

“That it’s a lot of work to clean the bedroom alone, and that chamberkeepers are a force to be reckoned with.” She let out a deep, weary sigh. “I won’t mistreat the ‘lower servants’, if that is what you are afraid of.” 

“I am not. But others, possibly guests, will likely not treat them well, and only you will have the authority to either condone it or to ensure there will be consequences.” He waved his hand and a two plates of food appeared on the newly cleaned table, joined by two glasses of water; then, he gestured for her to sit and followed suit. “The response you have to these people will determine a lot regarding respect, authority, and social status.” 

The water was a blessing after the non-stop work, and her stomach happily anticipated the food, so she couldn’t help but take a bite before she thought of replying. Once her mouth was empty again she spoke.

“Should I really care about social status?” 

“There will be no ignoring it, I’m afraid. Right now, with my magic, you have the ability to take care of everyone’s needs without having to worry about money. However, when you are to rule this castle on your own, even the smallest thing can become a problem. If your staff do not respect you and question your competence, they will be more inclined to spread negative rumours or partake in gossip that undermines your authority. I am certain you can imagine the kinds of unwanted situations that could lead to.” He paused, observing her as she sank her teeth into one of the perfectly red apples.   
“Then there are your guests. Depending on who you invite, what their social status is, and who they are befriended with, they could both be an asset to you as well as a liability. Yet it also depends on who you do _not_ invite: if those of high social status find out they have not been invited to a ball or to some sort of festivities, they might be offended and turn their friends and connections against you.” 

Her head was hurting. Why did it have to be so complicated? Couldn’t she just invite everyone from the nearest village no matter their professions or ancestry? Her brain skipped a few thoughts ahead and a frown formed on her face, which she then turned to the horned prince. 

“How are people going to get here, anyway? Did you not say that the castle is deep inside of the woods where no one dares to come? Can they even find their way here if they did have the courage?” 

“I will use my magic to move the castle.” 

A pause while she stared at him for a few seconds. 

“The _entire castle_? To where?”

“The edge of the woods, just out of sight. I will make a clear, wide path for carriages, and I will give everyone who lives nearby a vague memory that will tell them it has always existed. They will simply think the castle owners and their daughter, you, have kept to themselves all these years. You will need to come up with a believable reason why.” He moved the glass of water between his fingers, inspecting it for a moment, until he aimed his gaze at her again. “That is, if you are still determined to stay.” 

Neither looked away for a few seconds. She was trying to read him, to decipher him, but it was as if staring at a wall. She couldn’t make up anything and yet she knew that he was hiding something. This day had not simply been about teaching her how to become the Lady of the castle, had it? There was something else, an ulterior motive behind all of this, that explained why he had seemed so different compared to how he had been during dinner last night. Much more distant, condescending, perhaps even sadistic…

And then it clicked. 

“You are trying to scare me, aren’t you? Trying to discourage me, making me feel like it is far more than I could possibly handle…

You want me to leave.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'll be able to keep the kind-of-weekly updating schedule going, but we'll see! I love hearing your thoughts on the chapter so please feel encouraged to leave a comment 😁🥰❤


	11. Reconciliation

It made sense now; the frustration and impatience, the cold look in his eyes and the absent explaining of very complicated situations – they had all been a technique to try and get her to change her mind about staying. She could almost follow his entire thought process on it. Rage rushed through her veins and before he could defend himself she let it shape into words. 

“Have you gotten used to your solitary existence to such a degree that you cannot even stand the thought of having another person in this massive castle with you? Or am I such horrible company, and was every kind sentence a lie? You could simply have told me that you did not want me here – why did you even _suggest_ that I could stay to begin with? Why tell me that I could bring the castle back to life, and that you might even enjoy it, when all you wanted was for me to leave?! I can’t believe it!”   
She let the apple fall back onto her plate, stood, and began to make her way to the door. “I’ll go grab a coat and some shoes and you can open the gates for me.” 

“Wait-“ He quickly stood as well and hurried after her, out of the room and into the hallway, trying to keep up. “You can’t go, you’ll die!” 

“Magick me some supplies and a horse and I’ll be fine.” 

“Please, wait - let me explain-“ 

She abruptly stopped in her tracks and swirled around, fire flickering in her eyes. “Oh you have an explanation? Spit it out, then; I can’t wait to hear what you came up with! Did you want me to consider leaving because you didn’t have the guts to just send me away? Is that it?” 

He parted his lips, closed them again, and repeated the movement; guilt seeping into his red eyes as he tried to find the words but visibly couldn’t. And suddenly all her rage turned to pain. It slashed across her heart and weighed down on her shoulders, her flames extinguished within a fraction of a second - leaving her empty and exhausted. She sighed.

“I thought I finally had some security; a place to stay where I would be safe. I don’t need to hold elaborate parties, or have the competence to rule an entire castle and its staff. I don’t need you to put your energy towards teaching me if that is too much to ask. I was just glad to be welcome here, and I wished you would have let me known that I am not, instead of trying to make me want to leave of my own accord.” 

“You are welcome here, I promise!” He looked almost desperate as he answered her gaze. “I let my inner conflicts get the best of me and I did not intend to hurt you, believe me; yet I know that apologies do not make things right. I acted like a fool.” He sighed, and the regret was obvious in all of him. “Please, let me make this right. I truly want you to stay, even though the bitter part of me wishes no company at all - but I will not let it win. And I will not let you go out there in the cold, only to die somewhere deeper into the forest. Let me make this right, allow me to prove myself worthy of your company.” 

There was pleading in his guilty stare, in the tone of his voice. 

“Please… Stay.” 

For a moment she was silent. She wiped away the tears of anger and fatigue and clenched her fist one more time as the last of her anger flared and faded. 

“Admit that you were in my dreams.” 

It was obvious he had not expected that demand. A clashing of emotions swirled in the ruby, uncertainty and shame among them, before he finally caved. A sheen of magic washed over him and blue turned to pale white. His horns disappeared, his height diminished a little, and so he changed until finally he stood there as she had seen him during her nights. His true human form. 

“I admit that I entered your dreams, and I apologise if that frightens you. It was not my right to do so. I… My behaviour leaves a lot to be desired, I realise.” 

It was still surreal to see the man who she had thought of as non-existing, as a figment of her imagination, truly stand before her; alive and breathing - and even though the transformation was minimal, it was… breath-taking. In both forms he was easily the most handsome man she had ever encountered. How could she look into those bright eyes and not be mesmerized? Still, she did not instantly forgive him because he was beautiful and desirable, because - as he had said so himself - his actions had not been honourable. 

“You’ll be more considerate from now on, then?” 

“Yes, I promise.” 

She absently stared at him for a moment, recalling images and conversations, landscapes and sceneries – experiences that needed to be placed in a different context now. 

“You were so kind to me in my dreams. You enjoyed my company, I enjoyed yours, and then the night before we met you said goodbye. Were you truly that sure I would leave?” 

His appearance changed back, though the regretful look in his eyes stayed. “I was. Anyone else would have run away without a moment of doubt. I… I still cannot believe that you are here, and that this,” he vaguely gestured to himself, “does not seem to bother you at all. I was not prepared for you to stay.” 

She shook her head and pulled her mind back to the clarity of the present. “You are far too caught up in your self-hatred.” 

“I suppose so…” 

Her feet calmly brought her closer, closer yet, until she stood right in front of him; and, as she expected, he caught her wrist before she could lift her hand high enough to touch him. Confusion, caution, fear. She answered it with silent determination. 

Hesitantly he loosened his grip, and her hand was free again. 

She gently brushed her fingertips over the lines that ran across his cheek, ignoring the intensity of his gaze, and admired it like she had wanted to do since the moment she had noticed them. His skin was just as soft as any human’s, though cooler. Nothing about it felt monstrous. Then, she lifted herself onto her toes to reach higher, to where one of the two bigger horns emerged, and he inhaled sharply in response – but he did not stop her. He stood as if frozen while one of her hands rested on his chest for support and the other explored the textured surface. It was a strange feeling: smooth at certain points, with light ridges, and she could feel edges at the sides that caused the more angular shape. She was not able to reach far enough to follow them back or to touch the tip even though she tried, and her toes were already getting wobbly – but then Loki slowly, carefully, began to lower himself down. He sank further and further until he knelt in front of her, head bowed down as if he was showing her his deepest respect. And he waited. 

Surprise swirled through her chest and, after it settled, she slowly sank through her knees as well. Once more she allowed her hands to explore, to trace the lines of the ivory, and to gently press against the tip at the end. Despite its appearance it was not sharp enough to draw blood, or even to hurt, and she guessed that counted for the whole of him. 

“You said you were a danger to me, a monster, to be feared in every thinkable way. But I’m done being afraid. I just want to start living.” She returned her hands back to her lap. “I think you deserve the same.” 

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I fear that I have forgotten how.” 

“I’ll help,” she promised.

He answered her smile with one of his own. 

“I shall be forever grateful.” 

They returned to lunch and finished it before the prince took her on a walk through the castle. He showed her the different rooms and told her who would reside there, elaborated a bit more on the roles he had been teaching her today. It was lovely. He was more at ease, kinder, and he visibly enjoyed teaching her; he even welcomed her questions with a smile that looked genuine in every way. Maybe it was because of their earlier conversation that he slipped in a joke every now and then, but she couldn’t help but laugh at them and her heart felt light.   
At dinner he warned her that the coming morning he would question her about today’s lessons, to make sure she remembered, and that she should not forget to write in the book he gave her, but she barely listened; she was far too busy simply savouring his smiles and the sound of his voice, revelling in the lingering feelings of that afternoon. Perhaps she should not look past his actions this easily; how he had treated her, and how he had entered her dreams without her permission - yet she was simply glad he did not want her gone and that he was already putting in an effort to make it up to her. She would not take kindly to more deceit, however. If she ever found out he was lying to her about something again she promised to herself that she would go. 

Then she remembered a question she had had, but which had left her until now. 

“You shapeshifted into human form; why not stay that way? Not for me – I don’t mind this form of you – but for guests and such. You could just live a normal life like that, right? No need to stay in the shadows? Everyone would think you are human like them.” 

It seemed like he had expected this question. “My life here would have been very different if I could, but the transformation is painful and it is hard to maintain. It takes a lot of energy, both biological and magical in nature, and sooner or later I run out and lose grip. I would transform back without having a say in it.”

That did sound very bad indeed. He could suddenly transform back mid-dinner, sending the guests straight into hysteria, or if he managed to excuse himself beforehand she would need to come up with an explanation for his sudden retreat; which could be seen as rude or even as a direct insult. That could come with less intense but still very nasty consequences. 

“Ah. That’s... unfortunate. How long can you stay human? Have you tested it?”

“I have; and for a while I even focused on prolonging the duration of it. I was able to stay transformed for half a day. I have not kept up with it, however, and I figure I will last a few hours at most. Not nearly enough to govern a castle.”

She hummed in thought. “Maybe not, but we can work with that. They know nothing about you, so we can think of anything and they wouldn’t know any better. You could be very busy with... business correspondence? Or perhaps you could be one of those people who prefers to double-check the finances and plan ahead in great detail? That would take up a lot of time as well and would excuse your long moments of absence.” 

It was his turn to make a pensive sound and to poke at his food while his gaze was directed ahead. “I am sure we can think of something, yet it may not be useful to spend our energy on that right now. There are a lot more things we need to discuss before we can even decide on my role in all of this.” 

Maybe he was right, but something about this topic felt important. Was she afraid that he would change his mind if they did not decide on it soon? They both continued eating in contemplative silence while her brain mulled over the ideas and possibilities; but she could see that the prospect of being in public still frightened him. Perhaps she shouldn’t ask him to take such a big risk. She studied him through her eyelashes, acting as if she was fully focused on the food while secretly observing him. It was such a shame that people would not accept this version of him. Everything would have been so much easier – and his life wouldn’t have been this shitty in the first place. Was it a curse that could be broken? Maybe they could invite one of the magic users and ask them to try and fix it – but then again, if it wasn’t possible, Loki’s secret would be known to someone very powerful; and a monster hunt was the last thing they needed. 

She sighed involuntarily, and he looked up from his bite. “If it is any consolence, our planning and the speed of it is up to you. If you want to postpone choosing a staff-“

“No, no, that’s not it. Well, I _am_ nervous, of course; but I trust you will instruct me well and that I will find my way in all of this. If I need more time I will let you know.” 

He nodded. “Very well. For tomorrow I propose that we start at sunrise, so that we can make use of the entire day.” 

“Will we meet in the library again?” 

“Yes, it is the best location for our current focus of study. The storm will likely pass in the coming days, and when it is finally calm outside I will show you around the grounds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently took part in a writing challenge; if you want to read the short chapter based on the 3 words 'black, rose, forget', go check out my list of short LokixReader stories here on AO3 or visit the Foruneyti tumblr page! I've also uploaded a new Foruneyti chapter recently, and I'm working on a Pirate AU LokixReader fic. I'm on a roll!


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